


A Sticky Situation

by LadyJaguar



Category: Holby City
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Elevator Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Trapped In Elevator, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 14:47:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16621040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJaguar/pseuds/LadyJaguar
Summary: Roxanna has decided to spend Christmas alone, impatient with Henrik's gentlemanly advances and unwilling to commit to John, whose brutal brand of loving isn't really to her taste.Late on Christmas Eve, she just wants to go home. Her feet hurt, she's tired and hungry. But when Henrik joins her in the elevator, everything changes.When the elevator breaks down, Henrik seems to be suspiciously prepared. Roxanna begins to see him in a whole new light. Maybe he isn't such a gentleman after all, and maybe that is just what she's looking for.





	A Sticky Situation

It was raining. Roxanna looked out of Darwin Ward’s window at the glistening streets, not relishing the journey back to her little cottage. She had told herself she wanted a quiet Christmas. With so many emotionally and technically difficult patients in the past few months, she felt exhausted.

Yet she was regretting turning down Henrik’s invitation to dinner again. He always looked so hurt, his lower lip almost trembling even as he told her not to worry, that he understood. He was sweet. Too sweet for her. An evening in his company would be exceptionally pleasant, but ….

The truth was, she wished he was a little less Henrik and a little more John. Not much. Just a little. It could make all the difference between loving him and hungering for him.

Now John was completely different. He had also wanted to spend Christmas with her, but his ideas were polar opposites to Henrik’s. The evening would have panned out first with a candlelit dinner, before going home to his apartment for a nightcap. Then his urbane exterior would slip and he would lead her into his bedroom, flinging her down on his enormous bed. For the next two days they would rarely be out of it. Honestly, she had only spent a few weekends with him and both times came away feeling like a child’s drawing of a woman, with a triangular body and a leg at each corner.

She didn’t mind the handcuffing. That was rather nice, but she didn’t feel totally at ease with the flogger, although he had never hurt her. They never made love. John didn’t do that. He fucked and did it hard, for hours sometimes. She was left seeing stars, and she doubted whether Henrik would give her the same amount of satisfaction. For a short man, John’s prowess probably rivalled the legendary Ric Griffin’s. Not that she ever had the chance to find that out.

David, her late husband, had been a perfect mix of the two. A gentleman, considerate and charming, who knew how to please her. Their marriage had been long and happy, and she didn’t ever think any man would match him.

John was one extreme, and Henrik was the other. Sometimes all she wanted was to curl up in front of a fire, watch a film, feel the rise and fall of someone else’s breathing against her cheek, feel gentle fingers running through her hair, and wake up to kind words and adoring looks, rather than the cool smile of a man who knew she would be back for more of his raw passion.

She tidied her hair and looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, thinking of John’s hand on her back, pushing her into the mattress. The festive red suit she had worn that day didn’t help. Even with the fitted jacket and short skirt, she looked like Santa’s helper. Hopefully she would be able to sneak out without encountering Henrik, whose suggestion of a drink she had turned down earlier.

Walking to the elevator, she considered her feelings for him. She loved him dearly, but he had no passion. John had too much. If Henrik could be a bit more John, what a magnificent man he would be….

She squirmed. Even the thought of that was making her slightly damp. No, no, no! Put that thought away, Roxanna.

As the elevator door began to close, a hand stopped it. Henrik slipped in beside her. He was carrying two large bags from Waitrose, which he put down in the corner of the elevator.

“A few last minute supplies,” he explained. He looked anxiously at her flushed face. “Are you feeling all right, Roxanna?”

In the confines of the elevator he was very tall, and exceedingly handsome in his grey three-piece suit. It made her knees go quite weak.

“I’m fine, Henrik.” It came out as a squeak. She coughed to cover it up.

“Better than this morning then.”

He was referring to their conversation where she had told him she wasn’t feeling well enough to join him for dinner that night.

“A little.” She breathed in his cedarwood aftershave, tempted to rub her face against his jacket like a contented cat.

But he wouldn’t appreciate that, especially when still at work. Why couldn’t he be less reserved? She wanted him to push her against the wall and kiss her hard. Why couldn’t he do that?

In the mirror, she caught him looking at her in a way he never had before. The weak feeling returned. It was hard to tell whether he was angry, frustrated or seething with lust. He knew about her assignations with John, and she knew he didn’t like it. Maybe he thought she was on her way to meet him?

"John's in Vermont," she said, to break the thick silence. "Ski-ing."

"Right." Henrik looked away. He didn't seem that interested.

"The snow is very good at the moment."

"Good."

She wished he would say something else. The atmosphere in the small space was unbearably awkward.

Henrik reached for the elevator buttons. “I need to fetch something from the office. I’ll say good night.” His voice was formal, indicating he really was upset.

“Henrik…”

He pressed a button.

There was a hard jolt and the lights dimmed. It was obvious the elevator had stopped moving. She pressed the button to open the door.

Nothing.

"Which button did you push?” she asked, looking at him in alarm.

“I’m sure it’s…” The elevator jolted again. Roxanna’s stomach turned slightly at the sudden descent. When it stopped again, the Basement light came on. Henrik pressed the button to open the doors.

Nothing. They were trapped.

Henrik was on the phone immediately, talking to the maintenance team.

“Someone will be here soon,” he said kindly. His phone chirped again. She listened to his side of the conversation.

“Yes, I understand …”

“Two hours. Right. Yes, that's fine.”

"No, no, we’re not going anywhere.” He cut the call.

She stared at him in dismay. “Two hours?”

“Possibly longer. The lift man has already left for Scotland this morning. They’re sourcing someone else.” He didn’t seem too worried. In fact, if she didn’t know any better, she would have said he looked almost pleased.

She wasn't pleased. It was the last thing she needed after a tough day.

Henrik opened one of the bags he had been carrying. “We might as well get comfortable. It looks as if we’ll be spending the evening together after all.”

Roxanna sighed and kicked off her stiletto heels. Her feet were aching but she didn’t want to sit down on the hard linoleum just yet. And it was slightly chilly. She rubbed her arms, grimacing.

“I hope it won’t get colder than this.”

“I doubt it. The temperature is quite ambient down here.”

“What on earth do you have in there?” Roxanna asked as Henrik fished in one of the bags.

“Just a few essentials.” He pulled out a neatly rolled fleece throw in cheerful red tartan. “I saw this today and thought it was rather jolly.” He opened the packaging and spread it on the floor. “There you are. Now you can sit down.”

He was enjoying this far more than he should have been. She looked suspiciously at him, but his face was all judicious concern for her comfort.

“Pinot Grigio?” He held up a bottle of superlative New Zealand white.

“I don’t suppose you have glasses in that bag as well?”

“As a matter of fact I do! I broke one of mine this morning so I bought some more.” He hummed as he fossicked around in the bag. “Here we are. And some nibbles…” A packet of her favourite cheesy bread sticks appeared, “and some olives.” Again, her favourite variety. Soon, a veritable feast lay before them. She watched it all with growing incredulity.

“Henrik, tell me the truth. Did you plan this?”

He looked genuinely hurt. “I’m the CEO, Roxanna. My duty is to the patients and staff. I’d be very remiss if I commandeered an elevator just to woo a woman I care very deeply for, wouldn’t I?”

She laughed and shook her head. Dear, sweet Henrik. Of course he wouldn't do anything that reckless. He didn't have an unpredictable bone in his body. She settled herself down and they toasted each other.

The wine was gradually drunk, the food eaten. They talked easily, laughed a little, and she cried a little too, remembering David. In the end, Henrik asked her a difficult question.

“I know I’m not enough for you, Roxanna, but does John give you everything you need? You deserve so much. I would give you the world if you only let me.”

They were on the second bottle of Pinot by that time. Henrik had loosened his tie and unfastened his waistcoat, and she was glowing with wine and warmth from their combined body heat. He leaned back against the mirror and gazed at her, his eyes soft behind his rimless glasses.

“John is … John,” she said eventually. “I enjoy his company."

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“I know.” she didn’t know what else to say.

“Every time I know you’re with him, it hurts like a stab to the heart. I wish… What does he have that I don’t?”

Roxanna held out her glass for him to fill it again. She knew she was tipsy. There was no other way the words would come tumbling out as they did.

“He’s dirty. No, not like that, Henrik! Animalistic. I like that. I want to inspire passion in someone. Being cherished isn’t enough. I want to be desired, hungered for, lusted over. You don’t have that. I’ve never sensed you wanting me for no-holds-barred sex, thinking lascivious thoughts about me whilst sitting at your desk, fantasising about spreading me over the Boardroom table. John does. He once called me at 3 in the morning to tell me he’s …. thinking about me,” she finished lamely, a blush staining her cheeks. She didn't think she was drunk enough to explain that incident.

Or maybe she was. The words that had just left her lips were like nothing she had ever said to him before. He looked shell-shocked, as if she had just grabbed his crotch in public.

“I’m sorry, forget I said all that. It’s the wine…”

“In vino veritas,” Henrik countered. “If you must know, I’ve thought about spreading you over my desk countless times. I’m just very discreet about it.” He coughed delicately. “It’s handy having a mahogany desk instead of glass.”

"Oh!" She giggled, catching the meaning behind his words. She was definitely drunk. She couldn't remember the last time she actually giggled. "Henrik, you are naughty."

“You found me out.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s dance.”

“There’s no music,” she laughed. She was feeling lightheaded as she clung on to the handrail.

“That’s easily fixed.” He produced his phone. The sound of Ella Fitzgerald singing “At Last” filled the small space. She wound her arms around his neck and looked up at him.

“Gosh you are tall.”

“And you’re very small.” He lifted her so they were face to face. Pressed along the length of his body, Roxanna found they fit together very nicely. She melted against him, feeling his arms support her, safe and secure. As they swayed to the music, she breathed him in.

"You smell nice," she murmured.

His lips brushed against her hair. Emboldened by the alcohol, she lifted her face to his and kissed his lips, adding a tentative flicker of tongue, sending a shudder through his whole body.

That simple action was a catalyst. With a low groan he had her pressed against the wall of the elevator, his tongue seeking out hers. Their kisses were hungry, sweetened with wine. In a split second, the heat in the elevator had turned up to eleven as she pushed his jacket off his shoulders and he kissed down her throat to her neck. His hands were busy, untucking her blouse and feeling for her breast. When she gasped in shocked delight he stopped and looked at her.

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” she pulled him back for another kiss, mashing his hand against her breast so he could feel her laboured breathing.

He crashed to the floor on his knees before her and pulled open her blouse. She heard the delicate silk rip. There was so much promise in that tiny sound. The pull of her lips made her knees buckle. She whimpered at the heat of his lips on her skin.

Then he was kissing her stomach. Her skirt fell to the floor. She heard him whisper her name again and felt his velvet breath against the apex of her thighs. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he breathed her in, then licked a trail down, down, down… Her panties joined her skirt on the floor. She hardly had time to step out of them before he was pleasuring her in the way she liked best, mewing sounds dripping from her lips, her fingers tight in his hair.

He stood up and kissed her deeply again, letting her taste herself. As they kissed, he lifted her again. She wrapped her legs around his waist and moaned as he filled her. His hands dug into her buttocks as they moved together, a slow sensual dance, their eyes locked, watching each other’s reactions.

"I'm shocked," she breathed. "This is a step up from buying me dinner." She bit her lip as he thrust her hard against the wall. Just once, just to let her feel the power behind it.

“I’ve been holding back, not wanting to scare you with the way I felt,” he whispered.

“You could never scare me, Henrik. I can take all you can give to me.” She squeezed him with her inner muscles, making him gasp.

“Is that right?” His smile was dangerous. His kind hazel eyes flashed fire. One more hard thrust had her trapped against the wall. She felt reason slipping as he fucked her with voluptuous grace, hitting the right spot to make her lose her mind. He buried his face against her neck and bit the soft flesh as he lost control, her erudite, reserved man reduced to animal grunts of pleasure.

Afterwards he sagged against her, breathing heavily, still pressing her against the wall. Gently, he set her down and adjusted his clothing. She pulled up her skirt and fiddled with the buttons on her blouse, her fingers trembling. It was surreal to feel his seed oozing down the inside of her legs. This was one sticky situation she hadn't expected to find herself in.

“I don’t suppose you packed tissues as well?” 

He delved into the bag and pulled out a box of Man-Sized Kleenex.

She began to giggle again at the sight of it. "Good lord, Henrik, how much sex were you hoping we'd have?"

It was his turn to blush. "I don't have any at home."

“So you didn't plan all this? This is all coincidence? The wine, the blanket, the food.” She laughed again. "The tissues?"

"Absolutely not, Ms. MacMillan."

She shook her head. That was his story and he was sticking to it. She tidied herself up as he re-packed the two carrier bags.

“I could murder a cup of tea,” she sighed. “I don’t suppose you have any silver needle in your apartment?”

He realised the meaning behind the question. His smile was slow to start but widened as she smiled back.

“I believe I have.” He pulled her into his arms. “Is this real? I feel as if I'm in some kind of dream. Do you really want to come home with me?”

She smiled up at him. “Yes, Henrik. It’s real.” She rested her head against his chest and rocked him gently. “All we need to do now is get out of this wretched lift so we can go home.”

She lifted her lips to his again. Lost in the kiss, they didn’t notice the elevator smoothly ascending.

“I feel like I’m floating,” Roxanna said. “I never thought I would feel this way again.”

Henrik pushed her back against the wall, grasping her wrists and lifting them so she was unable to move. “You like this?”

“Yes.” The thought of him capturing her, pinning her down, was highly arousing.

“Good.” His smile was wicked, full of promise.

A cough made them jump. Dom was looking through the elevator door at them.

“I’d ask if everything was okay but obviously…” He bit back a smile as Roxanna and Henrik picked their bags.

“You forgot something.” Dom nodded to the elevator.

Scarlet, Roxanna scooped to pick up her panties, giving Henrik an eyeful as she bent over in her short skirt. They walked past Dom and Sacha, avoiding their studied faces, feeling like naughty schoolchildren.

“Merry Christmas!” Dom said cheerfully, earning a dark look from Henrik.

They heard an unmistakable snort of laughter as they left the ward via the stairwell.

“They’re all fired,” Henrik muttered.

“Oh don’t be grouchy.” Roxanna slipped her hand into his.

“What about John?”

“We’ll tackle him when he’s back.” She stopped and looked up at him. “You did arrange for the elevator to break down, didn't you, Henrik?”

“Miss MacMillan, I believe that wine has gone to your head.” His eyes glinted behind his glasses. “Fate, Roxanna. And a little luck.”

She knew he would never admit doing such a thing. Instead she slipped her arm around his waist.

“Let’s go home. We can spend the next few days watching old movies in front of my wood burner. After we've stopped off at yours for the tea.”

“Sounds like heaven.” His lips brushed against her hair.

Above them, the stars had come out. Just for a moment, one could believe Christmas magic had visited Holby.


End file.
